


The Way Things Were

by Valiya



Series: The Jellicle Tales [1]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valiya/pseuds/Valiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a couple of months after the Jellicle Ball, this account reverts between the present and previous ill-fated events which led to Mistoffelees and Victoria joining the Jellicle tribe. In this tale of mystery, adventure and romance, Quaxo is confronted by decisions that test him against the bonds of both family and friendship, and which could ultimately cost him everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Recollection

_THE PRESENT:_

_RECOLLECTION_

In the hours of darkness that enfolded the city under a waning moon, one might have thought no life stirred in the junkyard tucked away within the confines of London’s streets. To the humans which happened to pass by the clutter of unwanted belongings and broken furniture, the refuse heap provided sufficient lodgings for the stray cats whose owners had neglected them or for those who had been born into such an unpromising life. Contradictory to many beliefs, the junkyard was in fact more than this. It was more than a mere gathering place, as it was the central spot which had been annually used to host a special event which most humans considered ‘a brothel for cats.’

It was beneath the diminishing moon which a small black cat sat, taking refuge in a tube-like tunnel that sheltered him from the chilly night air. Although he was some months past his kitten stage and not yet quite an adult, he was small for his age. He shuffled deeper into the tunnel, tucking his paws beneath his chest as he made himself more comfortable, then flicked his tail contentedly when he felt the warmth start to flow through his body from the pads of his paws. The little cat lifted his gaze to stare at the roof of the tunnel in which a small crack produced a continuous dripping of water. His amber-green gaze focused on the droplets which continued to spatter down, and as he stared, the dripping soon ceased. The whole tunnel filled with a soothing warmth which warmed the little cat’s ears to his tail, and he comfortably settled down to sleep.

His thoughts wondered to the young boy whom he hadn’t seen in months. It had been a while to say the least that he had last wound around his human friend’s legs and felt the comforting scratch behind his ears. That too had been before they had seen him with his human friend. His eyes opened slightly as he remembered the expressions of bewildered shock which had quickly turned to anger and jealousy. Then they had closed in on his human friend. He remembered the cries of fury and the horrible shrieking that had followed. He had fled then, reluctant to leave his human companion behind, but he’d had little chance of being able to protect his human when one of them had made a grab for him as he had streaked away in the rain.

It was slightly surprising to realise that he remembered much of that ill-fated day. But he knew he remembered a lot of things, even if they didn’t linger on the outskirts of his memory. He had to remember if he was to fully control his abilities. After all, he was no mere deserted cat.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of paws padding gently on the floor of the tunnel. His eyes opened fully, as he watched a small white kitten make her way over to him. Truthfully, she was no longer a kitten, as she had recently come of age, but to him she would always be a kitten. She lay down next to him, the heat radiating from her body a reassuring touch against his midnight black fur. Her wide blue eyes searched his for any hint of expression on his face, but when she found none, she asked him softly.

“Quaxo, what’s wrong?”

He stirred in response to her question and his gaze dropped, but otherwise did not move. He stared directly into her searching kindly gaze, and he considered lying to her, but instead chose to confess truthfully.

“I was just thinking of our human. Before—well...back to before...”

“You still think of the little human?” Her eyes did not conceal her surprise at his response.

“I haven’t thought of him since the day we properly joined the Jellicles. But the memory merely came to me now.” His whiskers twitched as he looked directly into his sister’s gaze again. “But it doesn’t matter. Sleep, sister.” He settled himself again as she snuggled up against his side, her head resting slightly on his paws. He watched her for a moment, then placed his head against hers as he waited for the ebbing feeling to take him into the confines of sleep.

He pondered why it bothered him so much now to think of the little human again. He had barely cast a thought to his human friend’s health until now. Maybe the effects of magic previously in the early evening had drained him so much it had released the lock repressing his inner musings. Either way, it troubled him. As he resolved to go back to his human friend’s home again tomorrow morning to see what had become of the boy, he wondered if the little human had thought of him more often in place of the desertion that he had repaid his human friend in return.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part One: Unwanted Interventions

_PART ONE_

_UNWANTED INTERVENTIONS_

When Quaxo woke the next morning, the first thing he took in was that the sun had only broken the surface of the horizon perhaps a minute or two before. It was not yet high enough for the fiery sphere’s rays to properly warm his coat or for many other Jellicles to be up and about, but he suspected that most of the kittens would already be awake. As he stretched his stiff muscles and idly washed the backs of his ears, his suspicions were confirmed by the sounds of feet scampering around the piles of broken chairs outside. Stretching himself one more time to rid the last of the tautness from his back legs, he padded silently towards the entrance of the tunnel, leaving a sleeping Victoria still nestled where he had previously lain with her.

He blinked instinctively at the light that caught his face as he stepped out, and as his eyes adjusted to the morning outside, the sounds of scraping caught his attention to his left. Curious as he was, he moved towards the direction of the source of the sound. His ears twitched and his tail flicked at the new sound of rustling paper, and he stopped in his tracks at the sounds of muffled whispering coming from near where the rustling had come from. His sharpened senses caught the familiar scent of dew off the damp newspaper which rustled ever so slightly; he would have considered it his own mere imagination if it had not been for the scraping sounds which had alerted his attention previously. He reacted instantly, sidestepping a small puddle and deftly darted around a dustbin where he crouched low and waited for them to emerge. As if in response to his presumption, a white kitten with brown and black stripes bounded out from behind the covering of newspaper. She was quickly followed by a brown and cream kitten with a brown patch over his left eye that splashed carelessly into the puddle that Quaxo had previously avoided. He jumped backwards, recoiling from the water that now soaked his front paws. The striped white kitten ignored her brother’s misfortune, and a perplexed expression crossed her face as she glanced around for her victim whom no longer appeared to be there.

The feeling of smug satisfaction combined with the thrill of mischievousness made Quaxo’s whiskers twitch in silent mirth. He tensed his back legs, his back curving upwards into the hunter’s stance. As the tousled kitten shook his paws to flick the insulting droplets off his paws and the striped kitten cast about for signs of her victim’s escape, Quaxo sprang forwards, catching hold of his victim in his paws as both black and striped cat tumbled together. The brown and cream kitten leapt aside in shock, losing his balance in his haste and splashed into the puddle again, this time releasing a cry of mixed surprise and annoyance at his ill luck. Quaxo laughed as he watched Pouncival run about madly in his humiliation, shaking the water off his coat which sent droplets landing on Quaxo’s own fur. He waited for the little tom’s embarrassment to subside before he spoke to both kittens.

“Best to keep your eye on the target all the time,” he advised. “Otherwise you’ll never catch a mouse or rat, or even another cat for that matter.”

“We can catch mice and rats,” Etcetera protested in meek response. “You’re just too quick to catch.”

“No not really. I heard you both before I saw you, so I slipped away and waited for you to appear.” The black tuxedo cat tickled the little striped kitten’s furry stomach with his paw affectionately, and she swatted him in playful return.

“How did you know we were coming?” Pouncival asked, joining his two companions lying on the ground. His fur still looked damp, but the muddy colour that had stained his creamy brown coat before had been washed clean. He returned to cleaning his fur as he settled himself beside the black cat and his sister.

“Intuition and experience.” Quaxo watched as Etcetera pressed her paw against the white patch of fur on his chest, and then he continued. “You’ll learn it soon enough. It’s not a rare thing that only comes occasionally. It’s a skill all of us learn.”

“Like your magic?” Etcetera asked eagerly. Her eyes widened as images of the Jellicle Ball swam to the front of her mind. Quaxo shook his head, his whiskers twitching into a cat smile as he flexed his paws, feeling the familiar tingling sensation return to the tips of his paw pads.

“Well, intuition is a cat quality. We all learn it in time.”

“But what about the magic you use? Do we all learn that too?” Etcetera asked hopefully. The black cat’s whiskers twitched again as he shook his head sombrely.

“I’m afraid not, little one.”

“Then how can you do it?” The little tom’s face looked baffled.

“I don’t know. It feels more like an instinct than something which is perceived.” A twinge of remorse pulsed through him as he stared at the disillusioned expression on Pouncival’s face which reflected his sister’s with equal emotion. “But it’s nothing to worry about,” he added, as if his words could compensate for their disenchantment. “It sometimes makes life more difficult for me.”

“Why’s that?” The dejectedness on Etcetera’s face was immediately replaced by curiosity.

An introspective look had crossed Quaxo’s face which seemed to indicate his separation from awareness. The two kittens glanced at one another briefly before their attention was stolen by the sound of a familiar tom cat’s voice cutting through the awkward silence. A dark Maine Coon tom appeared around the side of an overturned table, his gait elevated and swaying as he crossed into view. Unable to contain her excitement, Etcetera launched herself in the tom’s direction, who stopped momentarily as the little kitten rubbed her body against his side in open affection. Pouncival pattered after his sister enthusiastically, though in the hopes of finding more amusement in his sister’s fondness for the tom than having to watch him flaunt his flamboyant manners at every female within reach.

Although Quaxo’s eyes watched the two kittens playing about Tugger’s feet, his mind was immersed in the rush of thoughts that reeled to the surface of his consciousness. His mind was still swimming in the waters of his memories as he got to his paws, slipped past the kittens and Rum Tum Tugger and started in the direction of the junkyard’s entrance. Sliding through the iron bars of the gate, he let his memory rob his attention as he turned down the street towards the houses which accommodated the wealthier society of London.

_It was raining. The clouds massed together over central London, forming a cover of grey that made the atmosphere below feel damp and moist. From amongst a clutter of dustbins, Quaxo poked his head out from his temporary quarters, casting about for signs of activity. A large raindrop landed square on the crown of his head, and he jumped backwards, shaking his head hastily. From behind him, a small white kitten peered over his head to inspect the view outside for herself. Glancing back at her, he watched as she slid past him and leaned out to scan her surroundings more properly. Not wanting to be left behind, Quaxo followed her, jumping over his sister’s form gracefully, yet landing awkwardly as he staggered to prevent himself from falling over._

_Both kittens leant out from amongst the dustbins, startling each time a fat raindrop fell beside them or landed on their coats. Braver than his sister when confronted with wet weather, Quaxo stepped out into plain view, this time ignoring the splatters that fell on his black fur. He started towards a pile of damp boxes that had been piled unceremoniously next to a flight of steps leading to a human’s home. Curiously, he sniffed the wet cardboard before springing up onto the first box and peering inside the box’s contents._

_“Quaxo please don’t. If one of the humans catches you, you’re going to be in a load of trouble.” Victoria scampered hurriedly after him, stopping to stare up at her brother apprehensively, who had already climbed onto the second box. Deliberately paying no attention to his sister’s plea, Quaxo scrutinised the third box above him. Without a wide enough ledge to jump from, he dug his claws into the wet cardboard, pulling himself up ineptly. Another anxious meow from his sister below made him glance down at his sister’s dishevelled form on the ground below. Her striking white coat was completely drenched and her unhappy expression almost made him clamber down to comfort her, but his curiosity overpowered him as he turned to poke his head into the third box._

_Underneath a pile of broken animal toys and discarded books, a small tub of counters and a pair of black and white dice sat dolefully. With a small twitch of his whiskers, Quaxo reached underneath the jumble and scraped the lid of the container clumsily. His paw pulled the tub closer to him as he leant further into the box, and within a matter of seconds, he had closed his paw over the one of the dice. Remerging, he pushed the die off the edge of the box, where it clattered onto the wet floor._

_The sound of a door opening made him jump, and almost deliberately, he half-jumped, half-toppled into the box as the noise of footsteps slapped the pavement beside him. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he struggled to right himself and stay still until the footfalls receded and the door slammed shut. He lay crouched in the box for another few painful seconds, then finally poked his head out to investigate the situation. From where he was, he couldn’t see Victoria, yet he could sense that she was still close by. Ducking back into the box, Quaxo reached into the tub and pulled out the second die in his paw. As he pushed his head out again, he let the dice fall onto the ground as he pulled himself out of the box. Leaning over the side, he saw a glimpse of white fur beneath the flap of the first box._

_“They’re gone, Vic.” The little black kitten jumped from the third box to the first, landing neatly above his sister’s curled up form hidden beneath the flap of cardboard. A feeling of cunning momentarily seized him as he considered startling his sister with an unexpected appearance, but from the way he noticed her rigid shape pressed against the box, he chose to restrain his mischief. He leapt down off the box onto the ground, examining his sister’s frightened features, nuzzling himself against her as he saw her wide blue eyes frozen in fear. It seemed a little while before she would move from her hiding place, but eventually he coaxed her out from beneath the box flap, where he then scurried over to the fallen dice and began to push it about with his paw._

_“What’s that?”_

_As the little black kitten let his sister sniff the unfamiliar object, his whiskers twitched joyfully as she reached out to gingerly nudge the die uncertainly. Pushing the die back and forth with more confidence, he watched as she batted the die several feet away from them, then bounded after her and the rolling die. He sprang gracefully over his sister’s running outline as she pulled up short, but he had already pressed his paw over the small black cube by the time she realised he had taken it from her. “Don’t be a spoilsport—let us both play with it.” She thrust her paw beneath his to try and take the die from him, but as she pushed his paw aside, she only uncovered empty air._

_“Come on, where is it?” She swiped at him artfully, but he avoided her swing by ducking beneath her paw._

_“It’s a secret. You won’t be able to find it now.” As he gave his sister a wicked smile, she pounced on him in revenge. As both kittens rolled over one another, they abruptly ceased their wrestling match as a familiar smell drifted towards them. Wordlessly, they both scrambled to their feet, darting over to the bins they had previously emerged from as they began to trace the delicious scent._

_“Quaxo, here!”_

_The sounds of paper crackling made the black kitten’s ears prick and his whiskers twitch in anticipation as he leapt towards the direction of the rustling. Swerving around a black dustbin, he saw Victoria crouched over an old crumpled newspaper, bent over a small pile of chicken scraps. With a burst of delight, he scampered over to her, skidding to a halt as he breathed in the mouth-watering scent before snatching a piece in his teeth and gulping it down greedily. His sister ate noticeably with more dignity, but he knew that she was struggling to contain her hunger as she pulled a piece of chicken towards her with a delicate paw. Neither kittens were old enough to have been weaned off milk yet, but with no mother to care for them, they had been forced to suffice with scraps thrown out by the humans. Discarded leftovers were no filling meal for two growing kittens, or valuable enough in nutrition, but nonetheless, Quaxo was glad his sister had discovered a meal. This small course would have to last them another day at minimum._

_“Well done, sister,” he thanked appreciatively as the little white kitten proceeded to wash her paws._

_“I’m sure you would have done the same for me.” Yet she purred contentedly in spite of her discarding words._

_“Of course, little sister.” Quaxo licked the last taste of chicken from his paws before casting his attention back to the boxes sitting across the other side of the steps. Happily, he jumped onto the first step, racing over the wet stone as he jumped down on the other side and started playing with the leftover die. Slowly, Victoria followed after him, craftily snatching the die from him as she landed from the step next to him._

_“You going to give back the one you stole from me?” She rolled the dice about with her paw offhandedly as she returned the wicked smile he had given her before._

_“Only if you can find it,” Quaxo replied with an enigmatical look that didn’t quite match the devious glint in his amber-green eyes._

_The unexpected sound of a lock clicking in a door made Quaxo suddenly freeze. He saw Victoria’s eyes widen in shock as the sound of rapid footfalls drew nearer from behind the unlocked door. He whipped his head over his shoulder just in time to see the black door swing open as a small boy ran out of the door, pushing a large hoop down the steps with a stick while a little girl skipped out behind him. He didn’t pause another moment to watch the two humans as he wheeled around and bolted towards the boxes, hastily shoving Victoria underneath the flap as he crouched low beside her._

_The boy guided the hoop with ease, turning the hoop with a simple tap of his stick, playfully rolling it around his sister’s still form as she watched him with sullenly. As he stretched out to grasp hold of the escaping hoop, he stopped and turned to look at his sister, an expression of utmost superiority emphasising his haughty features._

_“Give it to me, Matthew,” the little girl demanded, her hand outstretched as if to take the hoop from him. “You’ve had your turn longer than I had last time.” She made to snatch the hoop from him, but he held it high above his head, grinning down at her tauntingly._

_“Catch it then,” he goaded, as she glared at him petulantly. His eyes suddenly widened as they focused on something behind her. “What are they doing out here?” His voice was suddenly sharp and accusatory. As he moved towards the pile of cardboard boxes, Quaxo hurriedly scuffled backwards, urging Victoria around the back of the box. He drew in a quick breath, his thoughts racing. If they made a run for cover now, they’d surely be seen._

_“Mother had them put out. She said we didn’t need those things anymore.” The little girl’s voice had now taken on the air of disdain as she watched her brother sift through the boxes._

_“Well, she shouldn’t have. I still use these things.” The boy bent over the top box and started fishing its contents out. “Where’s the tub of dice and the counters?”_

_“Leave it alone. And besides, why do you care? You never used them anyway.”_

_“I was using them.”_

_“No you weren’t.” The girl put a hand on her hip self-righteously, her eyes flashing conceitedly as she watched her brother’s features turn desperate._

_“Mother can’t throw these things away.”_

_“She already has. They’re not ours anymore. So stop prying, Matthew—Mother will come out soon and find you.” She stepped forwards to take a hold of his wrist, but her features froze as she caught sight of something beneath the flap of one of the boxes. “What’s that?”_

_“What?”_

_Quaxo scrabbled backwards as a pair of feet turned to face him. His heart was racing; he could feel his stomach tightening as second pair of feet joined the first. The sound of rustling from above made him glance up._

_“It’s a cat!”_

_He launched himself forwards, as he saw Victoria streak out in front of him. The whole box shifted as Quaxo dived after his sister who had leapt over the steps and was dashing towards the dustbins on the other side._

_“There are two of them!”_

_Footfalls rang out behind them as the children gave chase to the two kittens that ran for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Victoria flit past the bins, heading straight for the corner of the building in order to escape the chaos. At that point, a large, lumbering mastiff rounded the corner, followed by a tall man holding a long yellow cane. Victoria skidded to a halt, her ears flattening instinctively as she bent low, rooted to the spot. Then she pivoted round and ran. The dog, sensing an easy pursuit, bounded after her, as the man’s voice called out sharply. Too driven by the temptation and thrill of the chase, the dog ignored his master’s call._

_Hot anger and a prickling sensation coursed through Quaxo’s body as he saw his sister tearing towards him in terror. A sudden clatter broke amid the clamour of barking and shouting, as the hoop which had been propped against the handrail rolled out onto the pavement. Even though it caught the mastiff lightly on the shoulder, it was enough to send the dog off course and halt him in surprise. Victoria took stance behind Quaxo’s defensive form, her fur standing on end as she ruffled herself up aggressively. She hissed viciously at her chaser as Quaxo whipped round to see the two children closing in quickly. Suddenly without warning, he tripped and fell, landing hard on his hands and knees with an alarmed shout. Seizing their opportunity, Quaxo shoved his sister forwards into a run. At the same time as the little girl made a wild snatch at his sister. Her fingers grazed Victoria’s coat as Quaxo snarled at her in fury._

_The brother had pushed himself up onto his knees from the fall, the skin on his palms and knees stinging as he swivelled round to inspect what had upset his balance. His eyes fell on the small black die sitting a mere foot’s length from where he had fallen, before he bent to examine his sore palms with tender concern. His sister’s cry cut through the rain, snatching away his attention as he glanced up in time to see the two kittens making a reckless escape past him. He launched himself forwards, his hand snaking out like a whip as he made a grab for the kitten closest to him. His hands closed around the tiny scrabbling body, eliciting a petrified yelp from the kitten as he pulled it from the ground._

_Quaxo heard his sister’s terrified squeal ring out from behind him. His heart seemed to cease beating in that moment as he skidded to a stop and twisted round. Through the drizzle of rain that half-blinded him, he could see Victoria thrashing about wildly as the little girl took hold of his sister and pressed her close to her chest. Abandoning any sense of reason, he tore towards the two humans, scratching and clawing at the little girl’s legs as he wailed desperately for her to let his sister go. Angrily, the boy used his shoe to push him away roughly, but when he stumbled back towards them again dizzy from his mistreatment, the boy kicked him hard in the side._

_The gentleman holding the long cane had drawn up next to them, frowning in puzzlement as he stared at the two children clutching the white kitten, while the black one cried at their feet. “Is that your kitten?”_

_The children appeared fearful for a fleeting moment. But then the boy nodded, stroking the little white kitten’s coat affectionately. “Yes sir. She went missing for a few days after the cook left the back door ajar. But it looks as if your dog had found her before we did.”_

_“Ralph has always chased every cat in sight. Some dogs will tolerate them, but he doesn’t.” The gentleman stroked the mastiff at his heels fondly. “And what about that one?” His gaze focused on the small black kitten mewling at the children’s feet. “Is that one of yours too?”_

_“No,” the boy replied shortly. “That one must be a stray. Ours must have befriended it while she was on the streets.”_

_“Best have your kitten taken to the vet’s for fleas then,” the gentleman advised sternly. “She may have caught it from the stray.”_

_Even as he continued to scrape hopelessly at the girl’s feet, Quaxo felt his body’s strength declining rapidly. His vision became a temporary blur as his attempted to search for Victoria’s gaze, but when he tried to lift his head, he felt utterly exhausted from the attempt. His legs began to tremble from the influence of his abilities, and his surroundings suddenly became indistinct. His senses felt dulled and imprecise as he felt the girl’s feet from beneath his paws shift, and he almost fell over as he was pushed off balance. Through the unsettling haze that clouded him, he saw several blurs receding away, and smelled the fetid stench of a dog’s breath that produced a bitter taste in his mouth. His mind fought desperately to drag himself away from the repulsive scent as he staggered slowly towards the dustbins that would shelter him from the rain. As he hauled himself in the direction of an overturned crate, his legs shuddered once more before he collapsed onto the wet stone, pulling his legs in towards his chest as the rain continued to patter down on his defeated body._


	3. Part Two: The Ties That Bind

_PART TWO_

_THE TIES THAT BIND_

_Everything sounded and felt distant._

_From a fraction of his mind that still felt attached to reality, Quaxo could hear the indistinct noises of human activity bustling around him. He could not comprehend why the sounds were so muted, but as his alertness slowly returned, something closer to him diverted his attention. His instincts quickly picked up on an unfamiliar presence approaching. Somehow, he could deduce that the aura surrounding the presence was not threatening. Accordingly, he opened his eyes and lifted his head tentatively._

_A small white and brown kitten, perhaps several weeks younger than himself peered down at him curiously. Although the kit looked younger than Quaxo in face, he was noticeably taller and his body was slightly broader in build. Quaxo’s eyes lingered on the flame-like brown patch which spread from the right side of the kit’s brow down over his nose. Blinking dazedly up at the stranger, Quaxo tried to push himself to his feet, but the stiffness in his muscles kept his body locked to the cold stone floor. The stranger kitten’s eyes widened in sight of Quaxo’s attempt, and an expression of momentary fear crossed his face as he regarded Quaxo uncertainly._

_“Are you all right?” There was an unmistakable tone of concern in the young cat’s voice._

_“Yeah...” Quaxo’s voice trailed away as his eyes flitted from side to side, trying to assess his surroundings. The sky overhead was a lifeless grey, and a chill hung over them that did little to mask the signs of a previous downpour. As if in response to this observation, he twitched unthinkingly. Although rain did not trouble him, he was not ostracised in that he disliked the sensation of damp fur. Nonetheless, he knew that it was Victoria who objected to wet weather more often than not._

_Instinctively, Quaxo glanced over his shoulder, his amber-green gaze searching for the distinctive gleam of white fur. Twisting round, his eyes fell on the soggy remains of a crumpled newspaper littered with a small pile of bones. Alarm suddenly seized him as a succession of images reeled through his mind. The memory of a tall man with a large dog swam through the confusion to the front of his memory. The dog had then chased Victoria. It had chased him too. Back towards the children that had snatched hungrily at them like monsters._

_“Vic...” The word was a whisper that seemed to fall from his lips. His vision blurred as an overwhelming sickness clenched at his chest and his stomach constricted. The stinging sensation of threatening tears made his body shudder as he fought to contain his anguish. “They took her...they took Victoria.”_

_At this, the little white and brown kit’s ears twitched directly at the sound of Victoria’s name. Although his inquisitive nature longed to ask who the unfamiliar female’s name belonged to, he tried to refrain from asking. But after a few seconds, his curious nature got the better of him. “Sorry, but who’s Victoria?” He spoke tentatively, afraid that if he voiced his inquisitiveness any louder it could elicit a vicious reply._

_Quaxo glanced up at the white and brown kitten’s perplexed yet apprehensive expression. Swallowing his sorrow, he opened his mouth slowly to respond. “She’s my sister.” He watched the white and brown kit’s face change from puzzlement to understanding._

_“Who took her?” The kitten’s voice was slightly louder now, yet he still spoke in soft tones, as if conscious of the fact that he was treading on dangerous ground._

_“Two humans,” Quaxo replied bitterly. “A dog chased us back towards them as we were getting away. They caught Victoria, but—they didn’t take me with them when they took her away.” As details of the haunting incident returned to him, a heavy weight seemed to rest like a burden in the pit of his stomach. As if in response to his melancholy, the brown and white kitten moved towards him, his head dipped in an apologetic manner._

_“I’m sorry to hear about that,” he murmured softly; yet although Quaxo nodded in gratitude for the other kitten’s remorse, his heart did not feel any lighter._

_“What happened?” The coloured kit’s eyes roved over Quaxo’s wet coat and dishevelled appearance. “Did the Pollicle attack you?”_

_“I think I—what?” Quaxo’s ears twitched at the unfamiliar term and his eyes widened slightly._

_“Oh, sorry,” the kitten apologised hastily. “It’s a word we use to call dogs. A ‘Pollicle’ is a dog that has no human master. It’s wild and uncontrollable—it’s a monster.”_

_“Oh, all right then...” Quaxo’s mind contorted at what his imagination had conjured in response to the name. “Well, I don’t think this one was a stray. It had a master. A man.”_

_The white and brown kit’s expression darkened. “Human men are very fond of dogs. They often like to walk them without a leash. That’s when you have to be careful. One of the adult cats in our tribe got chased by several dogs one time.” His face twisted into a grimace at the recollection. “But how did you manage to get away?”_

_“I didn’t. I must have passed out. The last thing I remember was when they kicked me aside. I heard the man talking to the children.” Quaxo unintentionally lowered his gaze to his paws before looking back up at the other kitten again. “I need to find my sister. Those children were cruel; I could sense it. And I know Victoria won’t be able to endure them under their charge. She’s too pure-hearted to stand up to their behaviour.”_

_“Then we’ll rescue her,” the coloured kitten declared courageously, a determined look highlighting his bright green eyes. “But we’ll need help from the other Jellicles.” Immediately, he looked apologetic at the bemused look on Quaxo’s face, and he launched into an explanation. “The Jellicles are our tribe’s name. In reality, every cat is a Jellicle, but we are the group that named ourselves directly. We’re more unique than other cats, because we all have various special abilities like dancing and singing. One cat was even able to perform magic, but—he’s not really a member anymore. He went rogue a while back.” At this, the young cat flinched, as if the mere consideration of the rogue Jellicle made him frightened._

_“Magic, did you say?” Quaxo asked, his tone careful. His eyes flickered in the direction of his paws, which he tucked in towards his chest protectively._

_The brown and white kit nodded solemnly. “But the grownups don’t like to talk about him. He’s a rather delicate subject.”_

_Sensing that they had stumbled upon a topic which seemed to be taboo, Quaxo abstained from asking any further about the mystery cat. Instead, he made movements to get up unsteadily, and in response, the other kitten came forwards to assist him._

_“Why don’t you come back with me to the junkyard?” The kit suggested innocently, as he used his shoulder to help support Quaxo’s weight. As he helped the black kitten settle himself into a comfortable sitting position, he added, “You could meet the others for yourself. I’m sure if you wanted, you could stay there with us while we think of a way to save your sister.”_

_Stretching stiffly, Quaxo licked a paw delicately before using it to wash behind his ears. “I’m really grateful for your offer, but I want Victoria back with me safe and sound before I consider it.”_

_“It’s all right; I understand,” the Jellicle kitten reassured him. “I suppose you might want to go back to your family instead.” His face fell a little at the notion that had just occurred to him._

_“Victoria and I don’t have any parents.” Quaxo’s tone suddenly became wry. “Or any other siblings for that matter. We don’t know anything about our mother or father. We don’t even know if they’re alive.”_

_“Do you not have a human family?” The coloured kitten looked both stunned and rueful at the appalling news._

_“None.”_

_There was a short interlude of silence, in which the white and brown kitten looked both sorry and uncomfortable at the same time. Quaxo continued to wash the fur on the top of his head, keeping his eyes averted to the ground. But the coloured kit broke the silence by getting to his feet gracefully._

_“Well, now you know you have an offer from us.” He grinned impishly. This proceeded to draw a smile from Quaxo, who flicked his tail joyfully in response._

_After checking to make sure that he was completely washed and clean, Quaxo stood, this time with a more recognisable feline elegance. “I have to find her. To see if she’s all right.” The little tuxedo glanced up towards the stone steps that led to the children’s house._

_“We won’t be able to get in that way,” the bicoloured kitten commented doubtfully. His jade green gaze followed Quaxo’s to the enormous hole in the wall which he knew humans used as a doorway. “The humans keep their homes barred.”_

_“I wasn’t planning on getting in that way,” Quaxo replied furtively. He had redirected his gaze on the protruding ledge of a window that loomed over them._

_“I like your thinking,” the brown and white kitten began uncertainly, “But I still don’t know how we could climb that. It’s still a long way.” He had moved forwards to stand directly beneath the window ledge. The darkness cast a shadow over the kitten’s profile, and the flame like patch acted as a mask which concealed the right half his face._

_“Where there’s will, there’s a way,” Quaxo answered shrewdly, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He started towards a tall dustbin standing a few feet away from him. “Help me with this.”_

_The young coloured cat bounded forwards eagerly, his eyes flashing with wild enthusiasm. “I think I’m going to really like you.” He smirked at Quaxo’s complacent expression. “One of a Jellicle’s main traits is being fanatical. Practical, dramatical, pragmatical.” He smirked, as if amused by his own remark._

_“Is that one of your rules?” Quaxo asked, stopping in front of the large dustbin and wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant smell._

_“No,” the kit replied nonchalantly. “But it is a custom to have three different names. The first is what your human family uses for you. The second is a fancier, more distinctive name that we usually use to address one another. And the third is the name that must be kept only to yourself. You can never tell anyone else your third name, because it’s sacred. It’s unique and your own.” His whiskers twitched in amusement at Quaxo’s baffled expression, and he shrugged. “I don’t know why it’s that way, but it is what it is. Speaking of which, I never asked your name.”_

_“Quaxo. And what’s yours?”_

_“Impressive. I’m Tumblebrutus. But call me Tumble.”_

Shivering slightly from the draught that ruffled his fur, Quaxo silently made his way through the bustling streets. Keeping to the pavement away from the giant clattering horse buses, the little tuxedo turned down a street lined with a neat row of terraced houses. Although these residences were placed on the outskirts of London’s affluent vicinity, Quaxo knew that it was unlikely his human friend had moved. In the time that he had lived with the family, he had never once seen the boy’s father. Instead, it had been his mother who had worked to keep her son in school for as long as she could afford. His insightful nature coupled with this very observation had led him to suspect that the boy’s mother had been widowed.

His thoughts were interrupted as he came to a halt at the second last house at the end of the street, drinking in the familiar sight and smells that wafted over him on the current. Slipping nimbly through the bars of the gate that enclosed the small garden, he padded silently across the stone tiles and leapt deftly onto the window ledge. Although the curtains were drawn across, it only took a flick of his tail and single thought to slide them apart. Peering through the glass, he scanned the kitchen for any signs of activity. The distant sound of footsteps approaching made his ears flick forwards in awareness, and he bent low, ready to make a quick scramble if the person appearing was not who he was hoping for.

As the door opened, Quaxo saw the slender outline of a woman backing into the kitchen. As she turned to face him, he noticed that she clutched a small basket piled with clothing, which she set on the table in front of her before sitting down. Now that her face was illuminated in the sunlight, he recognised her face immediately as the boy’s mother. Although her face still held the youthfulness of a woman not even in her late twenties, her beauty was marked by the lines on her brow and the paleness of her skin which made her appear older than she really was. She worked in silence as she sifted through the clothes, taking out each item and folding it neatly before placing it in separate piles. The small cat quickly noticed that the stack closest to him was smaller than the other, and recognised the clothing as masculine attire. The boy was still there.

Yet as the woman reached further into the basket, her hands began to tremble, and soon she could barely grasp the blouse that she held in her shaking fingers. The garment slipped suddenly from her hold, and she flung the basket from the table as she clutched at her stomach, her body hunching over as she began to weep. Taken aback by her reaction, Quaxo stiffened as the mother’s fingers wove into the folds of her son’s clothing and the sound of her cries changed into stifled gasps. She shuddered uncontrollably as she tried to regain her composure, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief before getting shakily to her feet and retrieving the fallen basket. As she began to fold the remaining clothes, Quaxo noticed the slight tremor in her hands and the silent tears that slid down her cheeks.

_“How did you say we were going to shift this?” Tumble peered up at the dustbin sceptically, his tail flicking back and forth as he pondered its weight._

_“Just help me,” Quaxo urged, flexing his claws and sinking down to stretch his muscles. The prickling sensation began to stir in the pads of his feet, rising up his legs and travelling through the muscles in his body. Walking towards the garbage bin, he pressed his shoulder flat against the cold metal before twisting round and nodding for Tumble to do the same. The little bicolour wore a dubious expression as he braced his own shoulder against the icy surface. As both kittens threw their weight against the bin’s heavy load, Quaxo felt the tingle flare up his legs, coursing through his body like a burst of adrenaline. With a harsh grating noise, the dustbin slid slowly across the stone. Once it stood underneath the ledge, Quaxo quickly bounded away to retrieve the overturned crate, pushing it flat against the giant metal cylinder. Jumping lightly onto the first manufactured platform, Quaxo caught a glimpse of Tumble’s astounded expression._

_“What’s the matter?”_

_“How did you do that?” It was a demanding question, but the kit’s tone was coloured with awe as he stared at Quaxo incredulously._

_Quaxo frowned, deliberating how to describe the peculiar sensation. “Well, I get this prickly feeling in my paws before anything happens. But after that, I can do things. Make objects disappear, make things move, become stronger and more agile.”_

_“Who taught you?” Tumble’s voice suddenly dropped to a low whisper, yet there was still a fascinated look in his wide green eyes._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Your abilities.” Tumble’s eyes were fixed intently on Quaxo’s face. “You have magic.”_

_“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”_

_“I can’t really be the one to say.” It was Tumble’s turn to frown as he contemplated the question. “I suppose it’s a good thing for whoever has it. We’ve only ever had two cats in the tribe who’ve been able to use magic. Our Jellicle leader, Deuteronomy has been practising magic for years. But it’s not easy for him, because he wasn’t born with it. He developed magical abilities due to the elongated life he was given. But the other cat—the rebel...he was born with powers.” Tumble’s face twisted into a grimace as his words tailed away._

_“Was he the cat you mentioned before?”_

_“Yeah. But he was different. He used his abilities for his own pleasure. Tried to turn some of the tribe rogue, but most resisted.”_

_Another pause of silence fell between the two kittens. However, it was soon broken by the retrieval of Quaxo’s thoughts which abruptly refocused on the mission at hand. He leapt nimbly onto the lid of the dustbin before pulling himself up onto the ledge that jutted out of the wall. He stared through the glass, his eyes anxiously sought for a glint of white fur or any sign of movement. The creak of wood followed by a blur of white and brown in the corner of his eye told him that Tumble had leapt up too. With scrutinising concentration, both kittens peered through the pane, starting in alarm as the door to the room opened._

_A haughty looking boy entered the room, followed by a girl clutching a small white kitten to her chest. A wrench of recognition twisted Quaxo’s insides as he saw Victoria curled up in the child’s hands, her blue eyes widened in apprehension. Although she no longer appeared to be struggling, Quaxo could tell by the rigidness in her body that she wanted nothing more than to be released from her detainer’s grasp._

_“It’s her,” he croaked hoarsely. His eyes never left Victoria’s shape as the girl placed his little sister in her lap and began to brush her sleek fur. His throat felt taut and his claws gripped the ledge tightly as he stared at Victoria, who was trying to wriggle out of the girl’s hands._

_“Is that them?” Tumble whispered, leaning forwards slightly to examine the two children. Numb, Quaxo nodded in solemn assent. The boy, Matthew had turned to crouch down in front of the girl, pulling a ball of blue string from his pocket. As he began to unwind the thick thread, Victoria’s eyes flickered upwards and caught sight of Quaxo and Tumble crouched low behind the glass. A wave of helplessness swept over him as his eyes met hers. Through her facade of placidity, he saw the despair in her eyes as she gazed hopelessly at him._

_The boy jerked the end of the string in front of Victoria’s face, breaking their gaze as he tried to divert her attention. Instead, she twisted uncomfortably, trying to steal another look at Quaxo as the child turned to try to follow the direction of her stare. The girl swivelled herself around to face her brother as he dangled the string appealingly in front of Victoria again, but she still paid no attention to him. Noticing the lock on the window for the first time, Quaxo tried to focus his thoughts together, willing the lock to unfasten. Several reckless seconds passed, but the lock still wouldn’t detach, and Tumble nudged him frenetically as Matthew started towards the window._

_“Quaxo, stop!” Tumble threw himself into Quaxo’s side, knocking him off balance and land gracelessly onto the lid of the dustbin. As the white and brown kit leapt down off the ledge to land beside him, Quaxo glanced up with frantic desperation to see Matthew pull the curtains across the window. Then came a distant sound of anguished wailing. Quaxo’s heart plummeted down to his stomach as the irritated tones of exchange between the two children broke over Victoria’s cries, cutting off the last connection between them. He pivoted to face Tumble, who returned his gaze pitifully._

_“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, but he was coming and I thought you were going to do something rash.” Tumble’s large green eyes looked forlorn as he stared penitently at Quaxo._

_“I thought I could undo the latch...but it didn’t...it wouldn’t work.” Quaxo’s voice rang with broken despondency as he stared intently at the windowpane._

_“You were flustered,” Tumble responded sympathetically._

_“No,” Quaxo rejoined tersely. “Sometimes my power doesn’t always work. I can’t always control it.” He looked down self-consciously at his paws; a reminder of his disappointment._

_“But that’s not my point. If you had stayed there for any longer that human would’ve seen you. Quaxo, if you want to rescue your sister, you need to keep yourself safe first.” Tumble jumped down onto the crate and landed neatly on the ground. As he turned to look up at his dejected companion, his eyes were sincere. “But if you come back with me, I can try and get help from the others.”_

_For what seemed like minutes which in fact were only a few seconds, a passive silence fell for the third time between the two young cats. Inside, Quaxo knew that his last existing options were limited, if not already determined. Regardless of whatever he reasoned against the kit, he found he could not distrust Tumble. Through his own internal judgment, Quaxo knew that Tumble’s willingness and compassionate nature was candidly genuine. There was a new manner of confidence in his movements as he dropped lightly onto the crate, if not slight self-assurance as he landed adeptly in front of the little Jellicle._

_“All right.”_

Quaxo forced himself to pull away from the window, keeping his eyes averted from the scene he had just witnessed. As he landed back on the stone floor, he glanced back up at the window, his brow knitting as he began to reflect upon the event. In the past, he had often seen the boy’s mother wearing a troubled expression, but for a female with no mate and trying to support a child by herself, he had understood her trepidation. But he knew this had been more than financial problems. And he had not seen the boy himself. His heart seemed to contract in his chest as he immediately imagined the worst. But yet, a part of him knew that dreadful possibility wasn’t true. And in those few seconds, he placed his faith in the gut feeling that he had trusted since he had chosen to trust Tumble.

A loud clatter jerked him unexpectedly out of his thoughts. His tail bristled as he lowered his stomach to the ground; poised to defend himself in case of a sudden attack. On the other side of the fence, he watched as two small shadows moved along the bottom of the brick wall. Two other cats. His paws prickled as he opened his mind’s eye, trying to distinguish the two cats’ identities. But he didn’t have to speculate for long; the sound of scuttling paws and a muffled giggle was more than enough for Quaxo to realise instantly.

Quickly, he slid smoothly through the fence, slinking across the side of wall to lurk behind the corner. As a pair of calico cats emerged from behind a pile of rubbish bags, Quaxo’s tail began to flick back and forth in expectancy. Noiselessly, he watched as the smaller of the two began to drag a large chunk of meat from behind a bush in the neighbouring garden. Deciding to make his move, Quaxo stole forwards, creeping up behind the calico tom who was hastily trying to thrust a tattered sack through the iron bars of the fence towards his teammate. As the young queen used her sharp teeth and claws to heave the joint into the bag, the tom quickly darted through the bars to retrieve a strange harness which he slipped over his head and onto his shoulders. As she struggled to tie the end of the bag to the contraption with a piece of string, the queen exchanged roguish grins with her partner in crime before slipping through the bars to swat him impishly on the ear.

Stepping out into a pool of sunlight, Quaxo watched as the queen’s gaze caught sight of his fur glinting in the golden beams. Her hazel eyes widened as her mischievous expression dissolved, replaced with a look of panicked fear. Responsively, the tom whipped round, tensing as he spotted Quaxo padding slowly towards them, wearing an air of cool composure.

“What are you two doing?” His eyes sparkled dangerously as he stopped to look at the pair’s sheepish faces.

“Quaxo—what...” Mungojerrie’s voice trailed away as he stared in uneasy disbelief at the tuxedo who was eyeing him suspiciously. “Well...what did you see?”

“Not much,” Quaxo replied evenly. His expression had suddenly become unreadable. He glanced at the sack tied to the harness before meeting the pair’s nervous gazes. This time, they saw the knowing glint in his eyes.

“We haven’t taken anything else.”

Quaxo’s whiskers twitched in humoured response to the calico’s assertion. “And does that make it better?”

“No.” Mungojerrie’s tone was stiff. Quaxo knew that the tom didn’t like to be chided, no matter how often he and Rumpelteazer got into trouble by the other Jellicles. It was enough for him to relent quickly, and he smiled feebly and shook his head, as if to convey that he had forgiven them.

“Look, I’d usually turn a blind eye to your antics. But I know that the humans who live in this area can’t afford food as easily as those you usually steal from. I don’t mind if you raid houses a bit more towards the centre of town, but please don’t loot from around here again.”

“What’s got your tail in a twist, Quaxo?” Rumpelteazer asked. Even though he knew she couldn’t restrain her teasing nature, he heard the sincerity in her tone.

“Nothing.” He tried to feign inattentiveness, but he could hear the restlessness in his voice. He knew that Rumpelteazer hadn’t fallen for his pretence, and he struggled to find an appropriate explanation. “I used to live around here for a while. It was before I joined the tribe permanently.”

“You mean you had a human family?” The pitch in the young queen’s tone sounded surprised. Meeting her taken aback expression, he nodded.

“Not for very long though. It was a short-lived home.” Quaxo felt his insides knot as he spoke.

“Do they still live here?” Mungojerrie enquired. The tautness in his tone had gone, replaced by guarded curiosity.

“I think so.” It was an answer not only for Mungojerrie, but also for himself. The older tom seemed to sense Quaxo’s reluctance to engage further on the topic, and he refrained from asking any more. Instead, he shifted the weight of the sack’s load onto the centre of his shoulders, blinking meaningfully at Rumpelteazer, who got to her feet in silent response. She walked over to rub against Quaxo comfortingly, her large hazel eyes trying to offer him consolation.

“Don’t dwell on it, Quaxo,” she murmured softly. “You’ll only make yourself feel worse.” In rejoinder to her kindness, he purred softly, his whiskers twitching faintly. Glad that she had given him some solace, she purposefully lifted her head high, her tail flicking happily as she pushed herself taller. “Now, we’re actually heading back to the junkyard. We were taking this back for the others as a surprise.” Her gaze flickered down to the sack at her paws, and she gave Quaxo a puckish grin.

“Do you want to come back with us?” Mungojerrie offered benignly, his eyes reflecting Rumpelteazer’s impish smile.

“All right then.” Quaxo’s face broke into a smile as he stood, and with a brief glance at the string attached to the sack, the string looped itself into a knot around one of the harness’ rings.

As the trio set off towards the heart of the bustling city, Quaxo voiced a question which had occurred to him for a while.

“So why do you steal?”

Both Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer glanced at each other automatically. Mungojerrie’s face looked thoughtful as he pondered Quaxo’s query.

“I suppose essentially, it’s to stop ourselves connecting too closely with humans. We steal often from our own family so we don’t feel guilty about stealing from others. As for stealing from other cats—well, that’s a rare thing. We don’t do it unless there’s an important purpose behind it.” He gave Quaxo a fleeting glance. “And I suppose it’s also because we both enjoy it.” His eyes cast towards Rumpelteazer, who smirked at him in response. Then he suddenly stopped. “Not trying to be pushy, but could you work a bit of magic on this harness? It’s really annoying having to take long routes to stop the humans from noticing.”

As the three stopped for Quaxo to examine the mechanism carefully, he placed his paw on top of the sack, willing the tingling sensation to return to his paws. Both Jerrie and Rumpel blinked as the bag and the contraption vanished. Quaxo straightened, his whiskers twitching in satisfied amusement at their amazed expressions before shrugging noncommittally.

“Think of it as a fast food delivery. Humans take ages with sending things. They need something quicker and less problematic.”

“What would we do without you, Mistoffelees?” Jerrie teased, grinning. The three of them laughed heartily as they continued down their journey, and yet Quaxo found he couldn’t rid himself of the lingering image of the boy’s mother that had imprinted itself into his memory.


End file.
